Damned Blood
by acetamide
Summary: Post OotP, sixth year. Harry returns to Hogwarts after a quiet summer... but the past is about to come and bite him and others hard where it hurts. Quite dark, adult themes.
1. Homecoming

I feel particularly ashamed of myself. I have recklessly begun yet another fic - now I have three on the go - just because my main one had ground to a halt.

I won't say what 'type' of fic this is, since it will ruin it... but I'll say this. It's a well-used 'type'... with a twist. A dark version of this... 'type'.

I won't tell you the pairings either. You have to wait.

Many thanks to FireOpal, who has gotten her arse into gear at last and started acting like a proper beta.

Don't hit me!

* * *

Harry Potter yawned widely and buried his head into the flat pillow, black hair in stark contrast against the white cotton. Sunlight streamed through the thin curtains on the late August dawn and he could hear movement in the room beside his as his uncle and aunt started moving around. Hedwig hooted gently from her cage on his desk.

"Up!"

"Mrrm." He muttered into the sheets.

"Now!"

"Yes, Aunt Petu…" Warm bed…

"I mean it!"

"I'm up." He replied finally, yawning again and sitting up in his bed, stretching widely. He grinned as he caught sight of his homemade calendar on the wall at the end of his bed. It was September the first; time to get rid of his Aunt and Uncle again for a whole year. Shuffling out of his bed, he grinned at Hedwig.

"Time to go home, girl."

She hooted gently as he pulled off his pyjamas and shrugged on a pair of massive jeans and an old shirt of Dudley's. He opened the window to let her fly out and walked out onto the landing and descended the stairs to the kitchen, where he could already smell bacon frying.

Uncle Vernon's red face peered around the side of the newspaper as he entered, piggy eyes watching him suspiciously as he got a glass of water.

"You're going today." He remarked. Harry bit back a smart reply.

"Yes. But I don't need you to take me; I already have transport."

"Wasn't going to anyway." Uncle Vernon muttered as he returned to his newspaper. Harry raised an eyebrow at the offending media and turned to Aunt Petunia.

"Can I help?" he asked politely. She scowled at him.

"Set the table."

The summer hadn't been that bad, Harry mused as he took the cutlery out of the drawer. The Dursleys had behaved as could be expected after Moody's threats, and generally steered clear of Harry, communicating with polite but short sentences. Harry returned the gesture. They no longer complained about Hedwig; Aunt Petunia told him that he could do whatever he wanted, so long as he stayed in his own room. For the first time in his life as a wizard, he had been able to do his homework in broad daylight without fear of being yelled at if he were caught. It was refreshing to say the least.

Dudley announced his presence by yawning ridiculously loudly.

"You're going off to your freak school today, aren't you?" he queried between yawns. Harry nodded.

"And there's a good chance I'll not be coming back, so I'm going to take everything with me. I'll be an adult by next August, so hopefully I'll only have to be here for a few days at the most."

"No you won't." Uncle Vernon interrupted suddenly.

"Won't what?" Harry asked, pausing in his job to look at Uncle Vernon with a puzzled look on his face.

"Won't be an adult. I know you won't. You're younger than Dudley, and he'll still be seventeen next August. You're lying."

"I'm not." He replied, keeping his annoyance hidden. "In the- in my world, we're adults at seventeen."

Uncle Vernon eyed him suspiciously and grunted before returning to his newspaper. Harry shrugged and finished setting the table as Aunt Petunia put bacon and sausages into a dish and brought it over to the table, where Dudley sat down heavily, piggy eyes drinking in the sight of the food.

Packing his belongings into his trunk half an hour later, Harry wished more than ever that he could use just a simple Shrinking Charm on half of his belongings. Rather than send him into Diagon Alley personally, the Order had decided to send Tonks in his place. He had sent Hedwig with his list and later that day received a package with the instructions to tap everything three times to return it to normal size.

Although he had to admit that using Tonks was a much more sensible option, he was still a bit peeved that he hadn't seen hide nor hair of Ron and Hermione throughout the holidays. As promised, he sent a letter to the Order every three days, and later that day he would get one back. Hermione and Ron had started off sending him letters at least twice a week, but soon stopped, and occasionally added their names to the bottom of Tonks' letters, which led Harry to assume that they were staying at Grimmauld Place for the last bit of the summer.

Dumbledore had been in touch with him a week after his birthday and informed him that Sirius had left the entire Black fortune to him in his will, including the Black house. Harry had given permission for the Order to use it as Headquarters still, but now wasn't quite sure what to do with two massive fortunes stored deep under London.

As he forced his trunk shut and locked it, the alarm on his watch went off to signify half past ten. He switched it off and opened his bedroom door, dragging his trunk down the stairs awkwardly whilst Dudley watched from his bedroom door.

"Dad's not going to take you to the station, you know."

"I know. I'm going to get the bus." He replied, panting slightly.

"You don't have any money for a bus." Dudley said shrewdly, eyes narrowed.

"I'm not getting a normal bus." The trunk landed heavily on the hall floor and he opened the door, shoving it though and then climbing back up the stairs to collect Hedwig and his Firebolt, encountering Dudley again at the top. "I'm getting a bus for people like me."

"They have things like that?" he asked, aghast. Harry grinned.

"Of course. But people like you never see them."

Once all his belongings were down on the pavement, he stood and stuck out his right arm. There was a bang and the Knight Bus barrelled into view, screeching to a halt beside Harry. Stan leapt out.

"Hello there!" he greeted cheerfully.

"Hi Stan." Harry replied. "Could you get my stuff onto the bus? I'll be back in a moment."

He turned and jogged back up to the house, where the Dursleys were stood in the doorway, apparently oblivious to the massive purple bus.

"Well… I might see you next summer." He said awkwardly. Uncle Vernon looked at him as though he were a slug. "But if not… thanks."

They didn't reply, so he left them, stepping onto the bus and paying Stan thirteen Sickles.

"King's Cross Station." He said tiredly as he sat down in an armchair. Stan relayed the message to Ernie, and with an almighty bang, Harry left Privet Drive.

He was going home.

* * *

As you can see... not much happens. It starts getting interesting in the next chapter.

smokey

is slowly losing her mind.


	2. The Balinese Goddess of Plenty

Here comes Ron... quick, hide!

Sorry. I don't like him that much.

* * *

At ten to eleven, Harry stepped through the gateway to Platform 9 and ¾.

He was filled with a sense of familiarity as people he recognised bustled around him on the platform, as well as the many new first years that were smaller than he ever remembered himself being. He peered over the crowd's heads – he had grown two inches over the summer – and saw Hermione and Ron a few metres away. Grinning, he hauled his trunk over to them and tapped Hermione on the shoulder.

"Hey guys." He said cheerfully. "How was your summer?"

Hermione and Ron turned. Hermione stared at him for a moment, non-plussed. Ron frowned.

"Do we –" he began, but Hermione cut him off.

"Harry!" she gasped. Ron choked.

"What?" Harry replied, confused. Hermione gasped and whipped her wand out. He didn't hear the quickly murmured spell, but immediately his face felt odd – as though he were wearing a mask made of mist.

"Harry?" Ron asked in an awe-struck voice. Harry scowled at him.

"No, the Balinese Goddess of Plenty." He snapped. "Who else would it be?"

"Well… you don't _look_ like Harry." Hermione said slowly, biting her bottom lip nervously.

"What are you guys on about?" Harry asked, now wary.

"Have you not noticed?"

"No – what's not me?"

"Well, your face is kind of a different shape. Your cheekbones are sticking out a bit. And you've got nearly scrawny."

"I'm not scrawny!" he protested loudly. A few curious heads turned. Hermione shushed him and motioned for him to pick up his trunk and get on the train.

"So what, I've grown up a bit. I don't look like girl anymore – I thought you'd be happy for me." He said quietly as they moved down the corridor to find an empty compartment. Hermione sighed exasperatedly.

"You haven't just grown up, Harry." She stopped and frowned. "And you never looked like a girl."

Ron shrugged.

"This one's empty."

Harry sat down heavily on the seat and laid his head back. Hermione sat down beside him and Ron opposite, peering at him

"She's right, you know." He said slowly, tilting his head this way and that. "Your face has got thinner."

"I haven't changed!" Harry exclaimed, gesturing wildly with his hands. "You just haven't seen me for ages!"

"Harry, calm down," Hermione soothed, laying a hand on his arm. "You're getting agitated, and we know that when you get agitated you stop making sense. You're contradicting yourself. You don't think you've changed, because the changes have happened slowly over the six weeks of summer holiday and you've seen your reflection every day, so you never noticed." She explained.

"But for someone who's not seen you for six weeks, like me and Ron – well, you really can notice the changes." She finished, smiling apologetically. Harry growled and leant his head against the window and the train moved out of the station, families waving goodbye to their children for another fifteen weeks.

"I'm guessing that was a glamour you cast on me a minute ago then."

"Yes. I would have asked, but it was important."

"How?" Ron asked, puzzled.

"Think, Ron." She sighed exasperatedly. "We didn't recognise him at first, so chances are other people wouldn't. I mean, we _are_ his best friends. But can you imagine the fuss that would be caused if Harry Potter suddenly didn't look like Harry Potter any more? The media wouldn't leave him alone!"

"What should it matter?" Ron asked, perplexed.

Hermione ignored him, turning and fixing Harry with a serious look.

"Harry, are you sure you don't remember noticing any changes? Any at all, even if it was just growing a bit more?"

"I can't think of anything." He replied slowly, shaking his head. Hermione scratched her head absently as she thought.

"Was there any point at the end of last term that someone could have cast a minor charm on you? The twins, perhaps, when you saw them at the station? It seems like something they'd do."

"But why would anyone want to change how Harry looks?" Ron asked.

"Well, if it were the twins – to cause a commotion, probably." She said wryly. "But if it was someone else, I'm not sure."

"What makes you so sure that it's a hex?" he asked suddenly. Hermione frowned.

"Well, what other explanation would there be?"

"Maybe I've just grown," he suggested wryly. Hermione shook her head.

"You've not grown Harry, I've told you – you've _changed_. You don't look like Harry Potter any more. Which leaves us with two options – either someone hexed you at the end of last year, or someone put a timed charm on you."

"Hey guys!"

Ginny and Luna were stood in the doorway, already changed into their robes. Ron motioned them in and they sat with him.

"Hello. Did you have a good summer Luna?" Hermione asked politely. Luna sent her a rather dreamy smile.

"Yes thank you Hermione. Father and I went Mimamomi hunting in Yugoslavia. Unfortunately we didn't find any, but all the running around kept us busy."

"What are Mimamomi?" Harry asked, suppressing a yawn.

"They don't exist." Hermione said under her breath. Luna looked rather affronted.

"Yes they do!" she protested, and scowled at Hermione, who sniffed in disdain. Ron snorted.

"Hello there Ronald!" Luna said as though she had just noticed him. "Ginny's told me that you spent your summer moping in your bedroom. What were you moping about?"

"I wasn't moping!" he said angrily, glaring past Luna at Ginny, who looked completely unrepentant.

"Yes you were." She replied serenely. Ron choked.

"And how was your summer, Harry?" Luna said over the Weasley bickering. Hermione smiled.

"Abysmal, as usual." He answered in a rather bored tone.

"You three should get changed. We already have."

"Yes, we can see." Hermione said snappily. Luna ignored her.

Nodding, Harry hoisted Hermione's trunk down from the overhead and dropped it onto the floor, pulling his off straight after. Ron yanked his own down. It landed heavily and split down one side.

"Bugger!" he swore as clothes and books spilled out across the floor. Hermione sighed and whipped out her wand.

"Reparo!" she practically sang. Ginny snorted as the trunk snapped back together, leaving a pair of boxers out on the floor. Ron went bright red and stuffed them into his trunk, glaring at Hermione and Harry, who were trying not to smile.

"Thanks for the confidence vote." He grumbled. Sniggering, Harry pulled his robes on over his head. Gryffindor crest on the left breast, red and gold trimmings around the edge – the same as everyone else. Only now, looking down, he realised that they were a good three inches too short. He groaned.

"I told you!" Hermione said, shaking her head, and used her wand to lengthen the robes. They ended up a bit too long though, sleeves nearly covering his fingers and dragged slightly on the ground. Hermione blushed and made to reverse the effect before changing her mind.

"On second thoughts, maybe not." She said hastily. "We don't want you wearing a mini-skirt, do we?"

"Great." Harry snorted, and sat down awkwardly as the train jolted on the bridge. "Wake me when we get to Hogsmeade." He said, yawning again, and settled into the seat, still confused as to why he had caused such a reaction at the platform.

* * *

Look! Plot!

**_Please please please please please! Review!_**

You do not know how happy it makes me. Even if it's just a small note saying how crap it is, reviews make my day! So please, tell me what you think!

smokey

is suffering from lack of coffee.


	3. Welcome Home

I say, I have reviews!

And I have spent the week speaking like an upper-class toff, much to the amusement of my friends.

Have fun!

* * *

"Welcome!" Dumbledore called out over the faces of the students, old and new, sat at their respective house tables. The first years stared at him with some foreboding. "Welcome to another year – of magic!"

Harry scanned the Great Hall, and recognised many of his old friends from different houses dotted around the room. He could also see Draco Malfoy, but he hardly classed as a friend. Sat up at the teacher's table was who Harry presumed was the new Defence teacher – a willowy witch with long brown hair and a thin face. She was deep in conversation with Vector. He glanced at the opposite end of the table and noted with no small amount of resentment that Snape was still firmly in place as the King of Slytherin, scowling at anyone and everyone. Including Harry, who scowled back.

"As wonderful as it is to see you all again, my greetings will have to wait until after the feast, since I am sure you are all rather hungry after the train journey. Enjoy!"

Harry grinned as food blossomed right along the table, including, as usual, sherbet lemons. He began piling the workings of a Sunday lunch onto his plate whilst deciding whether the pork or lamb looked most appetising. To his left Dean was talking enthusiastically about the UEFA Cup Final – something to do with football – which his mother had recorded for him to watch. Seamus looked bored out of his wits.

"Did you study all the books before you came, Harry?" Hermione asked as she passed the gravy boat to Ginny. Ron groaned.

"Hermione, he's only just got back! Give him the night off!"

"No Ron, I won't!" she replied shortly. "The NEWT courses are much more difficult than the OWLs. Harry needs to be right up to date with all the readings. So should you!"

Harry poked her playfully in the ribs.

"Chill, Hermione!" he laughed as she scowled. "You can grill us on our study habits all you want tomorrow – just give us tonight to get back to normal!"

"But your NEWTs are important!" Hermione pouted. Harry grinned.

"You know, doing that makes you look even cuter." He teased, and she blushed, suddenly much more interested in her steak.

Sated and comfortable, Harry leaned forward onto the table as Ron shovelled the last of his food into his mouth. Smacking his lips with satisfaction, he took a long gulp of pumpkin and sighed happily. Harry watched the scene with amusement; Hermione, with something akin to disdain. He frowned at her disapproving face.

"What?" he asked defensively. Hermione sighed and shook her head, smiling. Harry laughed: it had been a long summer. The chatter around him suddenly deadened, and he looked to his left to find Dumbledore standing up at the staff table, smiling at them all.

"The very best of evenings to you!" he said warmly. Harry watched him speak and noticed, for the very first time, just how old he looked. It could have been the light, of course, but in all his previous five years he had never imagined Dumbledore as 'old'. Experienced, yes. But not old. The customary twinkle was diminished in his blue eyes. His face looked more wrinkled, more weathered, and his back seemed slightly bent – although Harry couldn't really blame him. The strain of holding the wizarding world together was finally taking its toll on the Headmaster.

"I do hope that you've all had excellent summers, and have returned to Hogwarts rested and relaxed. I have a few start-of-term notices to announce before you all go to bed."

"Who's that?" Ron whispered suddenly, pointing at the witch with brown hair. Harry shrugged.

"Give him a second and he'll tell us!" Hermione hissed crossly, earning herself a few startled looks from the surrounding Gryffindors.

"I would like to welcome Professor Molina to the teaching staff, who will be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts this year."

The tall witch stood up to a polite round of applause. Harry glanced at Snape, who was sneering at the woman as though he resented her mere presence. Harry frowned. Surely he wasn't still annoyed about not getting the Defence Against the Dark Arts post again? It was obviously clear that Dumbledore was never going to appoint him.

"Secondly, Mr. Filch would like all students to be aware that no products of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes are permitted. This includes Skiving Snackboxes, all types of Love Potion, and any tricks for cheating during tests and exams."

"I forgot to ask." Harry said in a low voice to Ron across the table as Dumbledore ran through the usual warnings concerning the Forbidden Forest and announcements about Quidditch. "How are the twins getting along?"

"Wonderfully." He replied, grinning, but quickly replaced it with a frown. "They're still refusing me discounts, though. Damnable pity that."

Harry laughed as they were dismissed, benches shoved backwards in the usual deafening scrape. He grabbed hold of Hermione's hand to avoid losing her in the crush as Ravenclaw merged with them in an attempt to exit the Great Hall. She offered him a smile and tugged him forwards. As they waited for a space to clear, Harry gazed around the Hall. He caught sight of a flash of white-blond hair, a pair of smoky grey eyes and a practised sneer, before he was whisked away to the warm, homely, familiarity of Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

I know, not much is happening... but **_OMG LOOK! IT'S HET!_** H/Hr content... and you know I don't do het... I wonder what is getting into me?

Thanks Jimbo... you make me giggle.

**Q: How many Umbridges does it take to change a lightbulb?  
**A: She passes a decree making it illegal for lightbulbs to burn out.

**PLEASE! REVIEW! IT MAKES ME HAPPY INSIDE!**

smokey

lives 25 miles form the nearest Starbucks.


	4. Snape's Soul Mate

Yay, you guys actually like this!

Yes, I am going to continue it - here's the proof - I just have rather important exams on at the moment, so my free time is limited.

I still can't believe I'm writing het. It's so difficult!

* * *

"Timetables." Hermione announced next morning as he and Ron stumbled blearily to the Gryffindor table in search of sustenance. Harry sat down beside Hermione and reached for a slice of toast as his timetable was dropped in front of him. He abandoned the toast and picked up the schedule, yawning.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts first thing. Can't be bad." Harry commented as he attempted the toast again.

"I've got that with you, haven't I?" Ron asked, peering across the table to see. "Unlucky, you've got Potions straight after!"

"Yeah, thanks for abandoning me there, Ron." he said sardonically, but Ron just grinned back, unfazed.

"He's a greasy git. You can't expect me to _want_ to continue, can you?"

"Well, what do you want to be when you finish seventh year?" Hermione asked, delicately spearing some black pudding with her fork.

"After my talk with McGonagall last year, I asked Dad, and he said he would be able to get me a job at the Ministry." He shrugged. "I'll probably start small – paper-pusher or something – but he says that a good foundation would help me move up."

"Let's see what you're doing then." Harry reached over and took his timetable as Hermione took his own. Ron's was quite a bit different from his own – the only lesson they had together was Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"Healing?" Hermione said in surprise. Harry nodded, taking a swig of pumpkin juice and yawning thoroughly, spawning a whole chain of them down the table.

"Dumbledore thought it might be useful. It's a new subject, Pomfrey agreed that it should be introduced to us. You know, because of the war and all that." He paused eating to have a better look at Ron's timetable. "What's Economics?" he asked, puzzled.

"New one. The study of businesses and stuff like that. McGonagall said it would be good for me because I'm wanting to work at the Ministry after seventh year."

"I bet you're taking loads of subjects, aren't you?" Harry commented to Hermione, peering at her own. She appeared to have colour-coded each of the subjects, and there were quite a few less free periods on her timetable than on Harry and Ron's.

"Nothing I cant handle." She responded primly. "I'm not using the Time-Turner, at least."

"Still loads." Harry remarked, and she smiled sheepishly.

"Can you do that for ours too?" Ron asked her, pointing at the timetable. Harry presumed he was referring to the colouring.

"Of course." She replied amiably. "Hand them over."

She tapped each of the timetables with her wand, and the sessions filled with colour. Potions was red; Defence Against the Dark Arts was yellow. The subjects were the same colours on each of the sheets.

"I wonder what Professor Molina will be like?" Hermione commented absently as she spread blueberry jam on her toast.

"Well we'll find out, won't we?" Ron replied, mouth predictably full. "We've got her first lesson."

* * *

"Good morning class." Molina said briskly as she strode into the room, her robes fluttering as she marched forwards. "I am Professor Molina."

Harry looked up from where he was doodling on a spare bit of parchment, having charmed his ink to randomly change colour after five seconds. The small illustration of the Whomping Willow flashed merrily through the colours of the rainbow.

"Put that away, Mr. Potter." Molina snapped from where she was piling stacks of parchment onto the front desk, dust billowing out in a massive cloud as they landed heavily.

"That was a good start." Ron murmured to him. He jumped a foot in the air as with a sharp crack, something bright exploded beside his ear. He teetered precariously on the edge of his chair before toppling onto the floor ungraciously.

"Don't speak unless spoken to." Molina said dangerously from the front of the classroom. Ron was white as a sheet as he climbed sheepishly back onto his seat. The others were too terrified to snigger or even cough. They sat and waited silently for Molina to give them instructions. She paced up and down the aisles of the classroom as though daring one of them to quail under her glare, reading them from their bodies as she prowled through the darkened room like a panther. After stalking around the classroom once, she returned to the front desk and leaned against it, robes wrapped around her. Harry was strongly reminded of Snape.

"At your school, you are taught Defence Against the Dark Arts. The name of the subject is misleading indeed; whist I am teaching here, it is not "Defence". It is The Dark Arts." She fixed each pupil individually with a hard glare, her dark blue eyes sparkling with a disturbing ferocity. "In this class you will not only learn to defend yourself. Previously you have only been taught spells to disarm, disable, and _defend_. I am going to teach you how to defend – and then attack."

A very slight murmur rippled through the classroom at this statement.

"Quiet!" she barked viciously. Silence descended immediately upon the sixth years. "Open your textbooks at page three hundred and fifty five. Read. Not one word."

Harry raised his eyebrows at the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, who returned his bemused look with a cool glare. The corners of Harry's mouth twisted downwards into a small frown as he bent and pulled his textbook out of his bag, flicking to page three hundred and fifty five – _Distractions and Decoys_. He felt rather than saw Hermione's hand go up beside him.

"Yes?"

"Miss, I thought you said we were going to learn how to attack." She began in a slightly confused tone, but Molina cut her off before she could say anything else.

"I said I was going to teach you to defend _and_ attack. Use your ears, girl."

Hermione flushed and looked back down at her desk. Harry was sorely tempted to stick up for his best friend, but for once common sense prevailed and he kept his head down, staring resolutely at the words on the page but not actually seeing them. He knew from experience not to agitate an unknown person. He didn't particularly want another set of scars traced on his body. He found himself absently rubbing gently at the back of his right hand, and glanced down at it. Tilting it towards the light, the lines of "I must not tell lies" were clearly visible, etched into his skin.

"Concentrate, Potter!" Molina snapped. He bit back his tongue and bent his head over the book, the only noise in the room the faint sound of breathing and the odd page turning as Molina oversaw their study.

* * *

"I think we've found Snape's soul mate."

Harry snorted as he walked down to the dungeons with Hermione, having left Ron to go to Divination by himself. They had spent the whole Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson reading – once finished the chapter set, Molina had instructed them to continue reading until the end of the lesson. Hermione hadn't tried to tell her that she had already finished the whole book, though Harry knew for a fact that she had read the thing through more than once.

"Don't take what she said to heart, Hermione." He comforted her as they descended into the dank atmosphere of the dungeons. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders in a half-hug. "You're right – she's a female Snape. Just pretend she's him. Ignore her bitchy comments."

"Someone will hear you, you know!" Hermione laughed, and returned the half-hug as best she could. "She actually seems more like a Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall hybrid, actually."

Harry blinked at her.

"Only if you add McGonagall's female bits." He concurred, then screwed up his face at the mental image that resulted. "Oh, nasty thoughts…" he said with a groan. Hermione giggled.

"Yes, that is rather disturbing."

"Not as bad as Snape with female extensions."

Hermione gasped and hit Harry on the chest with one hand whilst covering her face with her other. Harry grinned at her unrepentantly.

"That's just wrong, Harry James Potter." She moaned from behind her hand.

"And Snape's right behind you." Harry shot back. With a squeak of shock, Hermione leapt a foot in the air and span around on one foot, an excuse on the tip of her tongue. It never gained voice.

There was nobody there, save a confused Ravenclaw. Hermione growled and turned back to where Harry was sniggering.

"That wasn't funny, Harry!" she protested, and made to slap him jokingly. Harry dodged away, his bag banging against his legs.

"But it was worth the look on your face."

"Potter! Granger! Stop your messing around and get in this classroom."

This time, Snape was there – his nose poking out of the Potions classroom, a distinct glare on his face. Harry had a feeling that he had only caught the very tail end of the conversation, and wasn't quite sure what to say.

"In. Now."

Trying to hide his smirk, Harry slipped into the classroom, Hermione beside him. They sat down at the back bench and tried desperately to avoid each other's eyes for the lesson – every time they looked at each other, they just started giggling.

* * *

"How was you first day back then?" Dean asked as Harry sat down in front of the fire, his Potions homework in hand. The sixth year boys (plus Hermione, but they counted her as one of them anyway) were clustered around the fireplace, in various stages of homework.

"Boring." He replied succinctly. "Yours?"

"Harry, how can you say that?" Hermione interjected in a shocked tone before Dean could reply. Harry shrugged and settled himself in an armchair, opening his Potions textbook at chapter three.

"Well, what was interesting about it?" he asked sullenly. "Molina is practically the same as Snape, so we basically had double Snape for the whole morning – that's enough to dampen anyone's mood. And we didn't so anything in Healing. She just blathered on about safety precautions."

"Not _just_ that." She said with a frown. "But anyway, she needs to establish some ground rules before starting with the proper course, doesn't she?"

"Sounds pretty boring to be." Seamus added, and received a glare from Hermione, and shrank back down into the sofa he and Dean were sat on. Ron laughed.

"Is Seamus scared of Hermione now?"

"I am not!" the Irish boy protested, puffing his chest out and trying to stare down Hermione, but failing miserably. Harry snorted and inked his quill.

"You're never going to win, Seamus." He said mildly, writing out the title. "She's been best friends with me and Ron for five years. She's tough."

"I'm surprised it's taken him so long to realise what a formidable enemy Hermione is." Neville commented, pausing for a moment to look up from his Herbology work. Hermione looked as though she was about to argue, but then a grin spread over her face and she shook her head, smiling.

"I'm officially a boy, aren't I?" she said ruefully. Harry grinned and pulled her into a hug.

"Took you long enough to notice!"

* * *

"Harry?"

Harry started at Ron's curious voice. He turned away from the mirror to look at his red-haired friend, wearing paisley pyjamas as usual. The fitted him this year.

"Yeah?"

Ron shrugged, yawning widely and scratching his back.

"Just wondered if you were planning on getting any sleep. What were you looking at?"

"Myself, oik." Harry said sarcastically, and turned back to the mirror. The lights around it illuminated his face, and now that the glamour Hermione had cast was wearing off, he could see the changes. Ron moved to stand behind him and look over his shoulder into the mirror.

"You can see the changes, can't you?" he asked softly. Harry nodded dumbly. His face was indeed thinner, and like Hermione had said, it was also… sharper, somehow.

"They're not big, but they're noticeable." Harry said quietly, and sighed, tapping the lights with his wand to put them out. He turned to Ron in the semi-darkness and scrubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands.

"You'll need that redoing, mate." Ron advised. Harry nodded, then realised that he couldn't see him, and let a small growl out of his throat.

"Why does stuff like this always happen to me?" he grumbled, climbing into bed and pulling the hangings shut. Neville's snores echoed gently in the dormitory. Dean and Seamus were still down in the common room.

"Because you're the Boy-Who-Lived. It's your job."

"I didn't ask for this!" Harry snapped in the direction of Ron's bed.

"Never said you did!" he replied, affronted. "But it's true."

"Wish it wasn't." Harry muttered, turning on his side and burying his face into the pillow. He only hoped that Hermione would be able to tell him what on earth was going on this time around.

* * *

oik: an unintelligent person. British colloquialism.

Do you like it? It seems as though you do... this fic did really well, considering I only posted 3 chapters. Please review, your comments meant the world to me, and they really do inspire me. They will help me through my exams!

OK, now I'm pretty much begging for them.

But yeah... extremely welcome and very much appreciated.

smokey

has a head full of Shakespeare... cringe


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